


Our Own Russian Spy

by crowmunchies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Hermione, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Dumbledore is just eh, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Remus needs a nap, Severitus, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Severus Snape Has a Heart, TW mentions of death and abuse, the author is an American Russian attempting to write a RUSSIAN oc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:13:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21932785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowmunchies/pseuds/crowmunchies
Summary: In which a Russian 11 year old attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1991, and serves as a very good mediator.Kind of canon complaint, the author goes apeshit
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Original Character(s), Draco Malfoy & Severus Snape, Harry Potter & Original Character(s), Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Original Character(s), Original Character(s) & Everyone, Original Characters & Everyone, Remus Lupin & Severus Snape, Ron Weasley & Original Character(s), Sev & da professors, Severus Snape & Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape & Original Character(s), Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 15





	1. An Old Navy Coat

Chapter one: An Old Navy Coat 

Lyuda wiped her runny nose on her navy coat sleeve, ( it was her uncle’s old one,) and looked up from her story.

_Bartleby the Scrivener_ by Melville was okay, but proving to be depressing, which did not help her current situation.

Now, Lyuda thought she was a bit like Bartleby, a lonely Foreigner in an unfamiliar place.

Of course, as an 11 year old native to Russia, it was natural that she didn’t quite understand the grammar of the text, but since she was reading Melville like her acclaimed English father, in English, she felt that she must be doing something of importance.

Her muggle father was a respected author, he was English, and he was also famous. That’s all she knew about the man, additionally that the confusing British citizenship she got from him, was what was now allowing her to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Her mother had passed away in spring, in Petersburg.

Mama was an Auror, which was a dangerous job, and she was never home for too long. A mystery Witch in Moscow, bearing a dark mark, had, attempting something, (Lyuda didn’t know what,) somewhere, ( the girl often pictured her mother at night, alone in a dark alley to face some incredible beast, and shivered,) killed her mother. The adults never told her what happened.

And then Lyuda was truly alone.

As a 10 year old orphan stuck in a city she didn’t know, she felt hopeless and miserable, and spent her days sitting in a cold room with an exhausted woman from muggle child protective services. The lady gave her candies that tasted like pure sugar and left her alone, and left the room to talk on the phone a lot.

—

She ended up staying at her mother’s friend’s apartment in Samara, which was very easy, and that’s how Lyuda learned about the Floo network.

Uncle Nikolai was fun, very much a Cossack, and not her real uncle, but she still liked him.

He looked at Lyuda like he _actually_ wanted her around- a look she had craved for a long time. 

“Lyudmila Ushakovo! It’s good to see you!” He had exclaimed, stepping into the room with a perfect smile, and sporting a big, brand new navy coat. He almost made her laugh.

Uncle Nikolai was nice, and told her just to call him uncle Kolya. ( She didn’t, really). His apartment in Samara was very clean, and she finished her last 2 months of home schooling there before summer.

She cried and slept all the time, for the first few weeks. He was nice, and made her drink lots of water and let her watch as much TV as she wanted, whenever she wanted. 

He even hugged her a few times, when it was really bad. Mostly, though, Lyuda took to exploring his home as her favorite distraction.

His Samovar was very shiny, and much more beautiful than the old one mama had kept somewhere in the cupboards.

Uncle‘s girlfriend(s) were even more glamorous than his samovar, and Lyuda was in love with at least 2 of them. The girl liked to look at them, and try and capture their beauty with a pencil and notebook paper while they sat in uncle’s kitchen nook, sipping teas and coffees like the elegant aristocrats Lyuda had read about from Uncle Nikolai’s wonderful bookshelves.

Uncle was a great wizard, just like her mom was a great witch. She knew they had to be, because they managed to live life freely even under Soviet rule.

“Thank goodness for the Witches and Wizards of the world”, mama had liked to say.

—

Now, she sat on a bench of platform 9 and 3 quarters, waiting alone with her new owl, a small suitcase that was home to her school books, a lot of new socks, her wand, robes, a partially eaten apple, a set of everyday clothes, and this book of short stories from uncle. She missed him- the tall, smiling Cossack man who was a shoulder to cry on these past 5 months. 

He even gave her one of his coats for her birthday that May, because she wanted nothing else.

Lyuda pulled her coat around her shoulders. 

She missed her country, too, as she fidgeted, surrounded by English wizards and witches who spoke their own tongue too fast and too strangely for Lyuda to understand.

Currently, all she knew was that her only objective was to wait 1 more hour for the train, then get on the Hogwarts Express without dying or looking a fool.

Children were beginning to crowd the platform, all accompanied by parents worrying and nagging and stuffing extra things into their children’s bags.

And Lyuda felt very alone. 

After a good 10 more minutes of self pity and growing increasingly tired of Melville’s very dense writing style, a small Black girl sat down next to Lyuda. The stranger was on the verge of tears and clutching her suitcase for dear life. 

This alarmed Lyuda very much. Placing her book on her lap, she leaned forward and looked to her right, now facing the sniffling girl.

“...everything alright?” The girl looked at her with very big, watery eyes, and wiped them with the back of her hands, vigorously.

“I’m fine, I just, - I mean, my parents couldn’t,” she hiccuped, “ come onto the platform with me.”

“Ah, why?” Lyuda tried a little desperately.

“They’re muggles.” The little stranger looked quite dejected, now, and she hiccuped again, petting her cat.

Lyuda put a hand on her shoulder, gently, hesitantly. “ It will be okay. I will wait with you.”

“Thank you,” the stranger smiled, looking relieved, “ Oh! How rude of me, I’m sorry, I’m Hermione Granger, and I’m a 1st year at Hogwarts!” She stuck out her hand.

“My name is Lyudmila Ushakovo, but you can call me Lyuda. I am a 1st year.” She took Hermione‘s outstretched hand firmly.

“I would have thought you were a 2nd year, you are quite tall, oh - sorry, that was uncalled for.”

Lyuda laughed, and Hermione looked at her in surprise.

“That’s okay.” 

Hermione began to squint at the girl before her, hard.

“Lew-dah.” She mumbled. 

“Yes?”

“Nothing, I’m just trying to properly pronounce your name.”

“Yes.” 

“Peculiar.” Hermione mused.

“What does “peculiar” mean?”

“It means strange, interesting. Your name is, I mean.”

“Your name is more peculiar than my own.” Lyuda snorted.

“It is not!” The English girl almost looked offended, but then noticed Lyuda’s sincere expression, “perhaps to you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, are you from another country? Russia perhaps, by your, well,”

“Accent not a bad word. Yes, I am from Russia.”

“That’s brilliant! Would you tell me about it? What’s it like? I’ve read about Moscow, and the Trans- Siberian Railroad! Have you ever been to St. Petersburg ? Oh! Is that by Melville? Do you like to read too?” The English girl spoke very quickly and excitedly, and Lyuda decided that she was going to be a friend to this Hermione Granger.

—

Hermione kept watch in front of their car door while Lyuda changed into her robes, ( Hermione herself had been wearing hers since this morning, with pride).

A boy nervously approached Hermione just as Lyuda peeked her own head out of the door, he was rather chubby and very worried looking.

“Hi, er, I’m Neville. Excuse me, but have either of you seen my toad? His name is Trevor and I can’t find him anywhere.”

Now that both girls had their attention on the boy, they noticed he looked very upset and sweaty, and in danger of bursting into tears.

“It’s okay, I’ll help you look.” Hermione sighed.

“I as well.” Lyuda gave an affirmative nod to Neville, and the boy gave a squeak at Hermione’s pride and the quiet giant who followed her.

First, the girls asked two other girls, who called themselves Padma and Parvati, then a brooding Blonde boy all by himself. Student after student, no one had seen Neville’s toad.

Hermione slid open a door to reveal a skinny boy in broken glasses, and a ginger boy, feasting on what appeared to be a whole trolley of snacks and sweets. The red haired boy had his wand out.

“Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one.”

“No.” The ginger boy answered, impatience in his tone.

Lyuda watched Hermione’s expression shift from neutral to one of annoyance.

“Oh, you’re doing magic? Let’s see then.”

Red hair cleared his throat. “Sunshine, daises, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!”

A spark and a little puff of smoke, and a irritated rat was the result of this spell. Lyuda’s lip curled up.

“Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? Of course I've only tried a few simple spells myself, and they've all worked for me.” Hermione boasted, and paused.

“For example,” Hermione walked in front of the boy with the glasses, and pointed her wand to his face, purposefully.

“Oculus Reparo!” The nose band was fixed.

“That's better, isn't it?” Hermione smiled.

The boy took off his glasses, with very round, thin frames, staring at the fixed band in wonder. His messy bangs shifted. Hermione’s eyes lit up.

“Holy Cricket, you're Harry Potter! I'm Hermione Granger.”

“Hi Hermione.” Harry greeted a bit shyly.

“This is Lyuda, she’s a first year too!” Hermione gestured animatedly in Lyuda’s direction.

Harry Potter was, to say the least, not what Lyuda had expected. She’d heard of him, of course, everyone had. She’d thought he’d look more... heroic? Strong? Perhaps taller, like the old newspapers made him out to be since she could read.  
Harry Potter was very small for his age, more than a head shorter than herself, and his already tan skin tone should have been darker. He looked too pale, anemic, almost. And underweight.

“Hello Harry, and other. Nice to meet you.” Lyuda leaned against the door frame.

“And, you are...?” Hermione took her friend’s hint, and asked the other boy.

“Ron Weasley.” Said he, with a mouth full of chocolate and taffy.

“Pleasure,” She grimaced, “You two better change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon.”

Hermione got up to leave, but Lyuda remained in the doorway, eyeing something intently.

“Is that Dumbledore?” She pointed to the card next to Harry’s candy wrapper pile.

“What? Oh, yeah.” “Trade for Porskoff?” Lyuda stuck a hand in her skirt pocket, and between two fingers, pulled out a card of a blonde woman on a broomstick.

“Whoa!” Ron scooted to the edge of his seat.

“The famous chaser?” “Yes.”

“Harry’ll probably want to keep his first card, but I’ve got loads of Dumbledore if you wanna trade?” Ron was suddenly full of energy.

“Lyuda considered this. “Okay. I do not have any English cards yet.”

“Deal!” Ron rummaged through a backpack, and after a few moments both parties had their desired trading card, and the transaction was complete.

“Loon- duh, was it? We ‘re gonna have to trade again! I need more international Quidditch players!”

“What’s a quidditch?” Harry murmured.

“It’s pronounced Lew-dah.” Hermione interjected.

“We will, Ron,” Lyuda said, “ and Harry?”

The golden boy looked up at her, and she handed him a card.

“Good card to grow your collection.”

“Aw, wicked! She gave you a Krum, Harry!”

“Who’s that?”

“By the way, Ron, you’ve got dirt on your nose,” Lyuda almost went into fits of laughter at Hermione’s wonderfully timed pause, “did you know? Just there.”

Perhaps Lyudmila would not have such a horrible time at her new school after all.


	2. A Feast Fit For a Tsar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyuda and her classmates settle in

Chapter 2: A feast fit for a Tsar  
The trip across the lake was dream like- the water was smooth, any waves that rocked the boats were gentle, almost playful.  
Lyuda rode with three boys, because Neville didn’t want to ride with them, and Lyuda wasn’t going to make the lad, who looked fit to faint at the prospect of sharing a boat with one blonde boy.  
Though Lyuda was missing Hermione, Harry, and Ron, she was not as weak hearted as Neville, so she supposed it was okay.  
The blonde boy, ( the moping one from the train,) introduced himself as Draco Malfoy, and his two companions as Crabbe and Goyle. Strange names for strange folk, she supposed.  
“Who are you then?” Draco asked.  
“Lyudmila Ushakovo.”  
“You have a funny accent.”  
“So do you.” She stamped her boots on the bottom of the leaky vessel; a little water puddle had flooded the boat.  
“No, I don’t. Your boots are absolutely filthy.”  
“Okay.”  
“Good,” he looked rather awkward, as he chose his next words, “...are you a boy or a girl?”  
“Girl. Just tall.” Lyuda hummed. She did not seem bothered.  
Lyuda thought that the name Draco sounded like Dragon. He certainly seemed just as rude as one.  
“Built like a beanpole, this one. Her voice is like a boy’s.” He and his friends had a good laugh. When this jab produced no reaction from Lyuda, Draco grew bored.  
“What house do you want to be in? I know I’ll be in Slytherin.”  
Crabbe and Goyle voiced their agreements.  
“I would not mind any of them. Ravenclaw, for books?” Lyuda mused, still splashing her boots in the brackish water at the bottom of their boat.  
“Ew. You know you’ll get sick if you keep that up? Most unhygienic girl I’ve ever met.”  
She kicked up some of the muddy water at his pristine shoes, and grinned as he spluttered.  
He reminded her very much of a tiny, lonely version of Nikolai.  
— —  
Lyuda was decidedly afraid of Minerva McGonagall. After reuniting with the trio from the train, she and Ron bonded over their fear of the woman.  
McGonagall gave them a welcoming speech of sorts, and “ Your house will be like your family” danced around Lyuda’s mind even while Harry and Draco glared at each other, and even when the first years scampered behind the deputy headmistress into the great hall.  
After all, Russia’s wizarding school, (Koldovstoretz,) used the same house system. Uncle Nikolai was a mischievous Slytherin. Her mother was an orderly Ravenclaw. Lyuda had no idea what she’d be.  
Would she be sorted with other children who had their faces hidden behind books and journals?  
Would she bond with sly, cunning children whose wits were as sharp and their weapons?  
The girl pondered over this, even while Dumbledore gave his welcoming speech and the first student, ( her new friend,) was pushed under the sorting hat's scrutiny.  
“Granger, Hermione.”  
“GRYFFINDOR!”  
Lyuda’s eyes widened considerably. She had expected Hermione to be a Ravenclaw. She supposed the girl wasn’t afraid to say what was on her mind, though. Hermione was beaming.  
“Malfoy, Draco.”  
Lyuda could have sworn the damned thing didn't even touch his head.  
“SLYTHERIN!”  
She was unimpressed. The boy may have his own snobbish touch, but he reeked of Nikolai’s Slytherin tendencies. He sauntered to his house table, looking triumphant. Lyuda had to suppress a snort.  
A girl called Susan was a Hufflepuff. She looked the type. Lyuda hoped that she herself would be Ravenclaw, just a little bit.  
Abruptly, Harry touched the scar on his forehead and let out a hiss of pain.  
“You okay mate?” Ron whispered.  
“ I’m fine.”  
Lyuda sincerely doubted he was.  
“Weasley, Ronald.”  
The red haired boy next to her was shaking a bit, now. He scrambled to the stool and shut his eyes tight.  
“Another Weasley eh?I know exactly what to do with you,” , the hat seemed to be smiling, “GRYFFINDOR!”  
Ron sighed in relief, and two older boys who looked like him cheered the loudest at the Gryffindor table.  
“Ushakovo, Lyudmila.”  
Lyuda’s legs chose the perfect time to betray her and become shaky and shivery, but the tawny haired girl forced herself to walk her usual stride, all the way to the stool.  
The hat felt old. “Oh, we’ve got a brave one here. Stubborn, too. Yes, yes, You could make a decent Ravenclaw, with all those stories and daydreams,” the hat agreed while she repeated the house name over again internally, “ but you would make a better-,”  
“GRYFFINDOR!”  
She could work with it. Nikolai would tease her when he sent a letter, but she could work with it. The Gryffindor's cheered and whooped for her, even though she was a stranger. It made her feel warm, taking a seat next to a happy Hermione while being congratulated by a whole house.  
“Potter, Harry.” 

Lyuda could’ve dropped a pin and heard it perfectly, and she felt very bad for Harry himself, who suddenly had hundreds of pairs of eyes trained on him.  
They expected greatness. He was just a kid, just like them.  
The scrawny boy sat down, and screwed up his face. It felt like hours, even though it must’ve been 5 minutes at the most. Everyone was holding their breath.  
“...better be- GRYFFINDOR!”  
Their table erupted in the loudest yells and cheers of the night. The Weasley twins sang “ We got Potter! We got Potter!” , as Hermione clapped as loud as she could, Lyuda gave her biggest whoops possible, and Ron yelled a “ I knew you could do it mate!”  
A smiling Harry squeezed between Lyuda and Hermione, and sat across Ron, who promptly gave him a victory high five. Lots of other Gryffindor's were inspired to do so.  
At the head table, McGonagall tapped her spoon to a glass. “Your attention, please. Let the feast begin!”  
The tables were suddenly decorated with piles of food. Piping hot meats, fresh breads, roast and boiled vegetables, cakes and biscuits and delicious looking things Lyuda had never heard of.  
Lyuda had never seen such a meal in her life. It was the kind of thing that she would daydream about while eating canned pork for lunch and flipping through Mama’s worn copy of Anna Karenina, imagining that she too was in an upscale Petersburg restaurant, dining on oysters and roast beef, and fine aged wine.  
It took Hermione poking her shoulder in concern for her to snap out of it and start piling up her plate.  
Lyuda decided that this is what the Tsars and Tsarinas must have felt like before Aristocracy was killed to make room for Lenin. She scooped up pork chops, roast beef, potatoes, roast carrots, lettuce, a lot of bread and butter, and something that Harry called Yorkshire pudding. And she ate as much as she wanted. It was the best meal she’d ever had.  
Seamus Finnigan ( she would have to tell Uncle Kolya that there was a Finnigan at Hogwarts, he would get excited, and send over James Joyce books,) entertained everyone with the tale of his parents meeting, particularly herself and other half bloods.  
Harry leaned over Lyuda to get the attention of a Weasley.  
“ Percy, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?”  
“Oh, that's Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house.”  
“What's he teach?”  
“Potions. But everyone knows it's the Dark Arts he fancies, been after Quirrell’s job for years.” Percy took a decent chunk of butter and proceeded to slather it on a roll.  
Naturally, Lyuda’s eyes traveled to the head table, and landed on a sallow looking man in black robes, with sable hair and a hooked nose. Snape would make for a great Russian literary character. He taught one of her worst subjects, she didn’t think she was less skilled in anything, besides maybe Transfiguration.  
She knew that her mother got a lot of T’s in Transfiguration, and she knew she may be doomed to a similar fate. However, she did want to be good at potions, like uncle Kolya, who shared a small apothecary business with some Siberian friend Lyuda had never met.  
The professor next to Snape, the skittish looking one in a purple turban, was Quirrell. DADA. Lyuda really hoped that the man wasn’t as terrified of everything as he looked, she was looking forward to Defense, Astronomy, and maybe even Herbology.  
Oh, good Merlin, she was already going to have a hard time with English assignments and readings, and she couldn’t even begin to think about the annotations.  
She supposed she better read ahead in Transfigurations and Potions before bed, both Professors had already intimidated her.  
As Lyuda brooded over the extra studying she probably wouldn’t do, and snacked on more roast carrots, a ghostly head came up out of the table.  
Despite how severe and anxious she may have felt about this unfamiliar place, these new responsibilities, being all alone, she couldn’t help cracking up at Harry’s expression.  
— —  
Percy was a Prefect- Lyuda didn’t know what exactly that entailed, but the older boy was leading the Gryffindor's somewhere and he looked like he knew what he was doing.  
He explained the stair cases, the portraits, even the ghosts. While intrigued by spectral beings, she was unnerved by the portraits and how that would work with privacy.  
Percy lead them to a tower, and a large portrait of a fat lady in an exquisite looking dress.  
“Caput Draconis” was the password, and Percy spoke it to the lady, who looked oddly serious as the portrait creaked away from the wall to reveal a sort of circular entryway.  
“This reminds me of Bilbo’s house.” Hermione murmured, stopping briefly to run her hand along the doorway.  
“Do you like the Hobbit?” Lyuda whispered to her, as Percy pointed out the dorms.  
“Oh, definitely! I read it when I was 8!”  
“You are very to read a book like that at 8!”  
The two girls chattered away, talking about Tolkien's works as they were separated from the boys, and properly sorted into dorms- the first year dormitory containing Fay Dunbar, Lavender Brown, Hermione, Parvati Patil, and herself. There was another dorm full of older girls, that looked a lot bigger from the peek Lyuda  
The room was huge- grand, tall ceilings, tapestries of Gryffindor’s house flag that swept the floor, and a large, arched window taking up almost a whole wall, with a comfortable looking, cushioned nook. Lyuda thought that it would be good light for reading in her free time, and by Hermione's enchanted expression, Lyuda guessed she was sharing similar thoughts.  
The first year girls explored the room, all the flowing curtains to be pulled, dresser drawers to be filled, and decorating to be done.  
All their robes and school supplies had already been neatly put away, so, Hermione began piling books, chocolates and toffees into a cubby in her nightstand, and placed an unmoving framed photo of a smiling man and woman on top of it. Parvati put up massive weird sisters poster over her bed, along with some postcards. Fay was sorting her magazines and all her games away, and Lavender was conflicted on where to put her jewelry box- which was filled with very shiny and chunky gems that Lyuda had gaped at. Lyuda put her chocolate frog cards in her underwear drawer, sorted away her 6 books, and took out a framed photo of Uncle Nikolai teaching her how to cheat at gobstones. She considered it for a minute, his mischievous grey eyes twinkling down at her, and her first laugh in months, captured in a little moment from June, - then placed it on her nightstand.  
She groaned, remembering that she would soon no doubt soon be taken over by ‘jet lag’, and flopped on her bed. Exhausted, she realized that she would have to ask the other girls to wake her up on time.  
The sheets and comforter were soft, warm, and new- Lyuda could tell, and they smelled pleasantly of forest, earth, and steeping tea.  
“I’ve read that your bed at Hogwarts is charmed to smell like what calms you down. What’s yours?”  
Lyuda looked up at Hermione.  
“Smells like the woods and my favorite teas. You?”  
“ New book smell and apple juice,” Hermione supplied, giving a yawn, “ I read that once a Muggle-born Hufflepuff loved the smell of gasoline so much that his dorm-mates complained to their head of house, and they had to clear out his dorm and remove the charm, funny right?”  
Lyuda gave a chuckle, “ Yes, I like that smell too though.”  
“Ew, Lyuda.” The Russian girl simply laughed again.  
“Goodnight, Hermione.”  
“Goodnight Lyuda, and I’m waking you up at 7 sharp tomorrow!”


	3. The potions master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyuda and the other first year students go through their first week at hogwarts. passions and talents are being discovered, as well as weak points. Meeting some of the favorite professors.

The sun was blinding. Wretched, horrible experience to have its rays glaring deep into her stinging eyes this early, when her new blankets were still soaked in warmth and her body heavy and numb with sleep.  
“Get up Lyuda!” Hermione, already fully dressed and brushing her teeth urged for the second time.  
Though tempted to say ‘five more minutes,’ Lyuda was actually excited to start school.  
Then she remembered Transfiguration was first on her schedule, and gave a long suffering sigh.  
Lyuda’s uniform stood out- not in a good way. Her skirt stopped at her ankles, (it was much too long,) and was awfully baggy and awkward. Lyuda was too tall for the standard issued uniform, so she had to order a bigger size and adjust the waist herself. Luckily, she knew just the spell for such adjustments, this was not a new experience for her.  
A girl, fashioned in velvety Slytherin robes, had laughed at her as they clambered down a staircase that morning, mirthful eyes darting up at Lyuda, colored like sea glass and silver jewelry. Lyuda flushed pink and hid behind Hermionie, ( which looked rather funny, in the way that it would be amusing to see an ostrich hiding behind a sparrow. )  
She was almost certainly going to have to ask someone about pants.  
-  
Lyuda’s transfiguration skills were abysmal. She didn’t think she had ever felt her heart plummet into her stomach with shame, not in the way that she had when McGonagall shook her head in utter disappointment at her ‘attempt.’  
McGonagall could change her desk into a pig and back again without saying a word.  
Lyuda couldn’t do anything yet, her matchstick remained a matchstick. At least Ron and Harry’s tardiness had alleviated some of McGonagall’s attention from her new problem student. At least it was only the first day.  
Charms was okay. Quickly, and from observing Hermionie, Lyuda gathered that it was all about patience. Lyuda was the 3rd student in class to lift the quill, ( just after Harry, who seemed to have a knack for winging it).   
Wednesday evening was a treat.  
“The plough, the Big Dipper, she’s right there” Lyuda lazily shifted a finger towards the northern sky, “ the brightest star she owns - Ursa Major, the great big bear, and the flashy neighbor Polaris. North Star.”  
“I must say I am quite pleased, Ms. Ushakovo.” Professor Sinistra gave a little smile.  
Lyuda had been allowed to prattle on and on about stars for about 10 whole minutes, and the sea glass girl was watching her with her hands resting on her chin.  
From the engaged looks of her other fellow classmates, it wasn’t boring rambling either, so long as she kept giving the stars personality. Grinning with pride, Lyuda took her seat again.  
“See, class, Ms. Ushakovo can set you all a nice example, reading ahead before class- yes Ms. Granger?” Sinistra called on Hermionie, who was wildly waving her hand in the air, “ But Professor! Lyuda didn’t even open her book yet! She can’t concentrate on very dense English paragraphs for that long!”  
Sheepishly, Lyuda gave a grin, and was promptly told to stay after class, where Sinistra said that even aspiring astronomers had to read the assigned chapters.  
Flying lessons with the Slytherins was going swimmingly-  
“Up!” The small boy next to her piped.  
Harry’s broom must’ve been in love with him, and Draco’s splintered stick wanted to make Harry’s jealous, for it jumped into his hand not seconds later.  
Lyuda’s very beaten up school broom came to rest shakily into her palm after a few grunted ‘ups’. She had ridden uncle Nikolai’s broom once because he was really rather reckless and only 24 years old, and called himself ‘the cool uncle,’ even though there was no other uncle to compare to.  
Madam Hooch had them all learn to properly mount their brooms, and was counting down for them to give a little kick off, when suddenly Neville Longbottom was yelling and thrashing up into the sky like a fearful Rabbit being snatched up by a hungry hawk.  
“Get back down here this instant, Mr. Longbottom!” Madam Hooch has cried, but it was no use.  
Shouts and cries of fear and surprise erupted from the class as Neville struggled, and fell- and fell.  
Lyuda winced as he thudded against the field, his arm outstretched in a panicked attempt of defense, his broom bouncing away from him as he moaned in pain and began blubbering.  
Madam had fussed over him, and scooped the lad up, and crossly told them all to stay put, on the ground, as she hurried him to Madam Pomfrey.  
Harry Potter was a natural, she observed from the grassy field below, and she shielded her eyes from the white rays of the afternoon sun. He sped after Neville’s soaring remembrall, and Draco Malfoy, his arm still posed in midair when he had thrown it, hovered just above her head, a bit to her left.  
“No one could have known he’d be a good flyer.” She hummed, noticing his slack-jawed look of defeat.  
“Leave off, you nosy little halfblood!” He grumbled, landing harshly, and stalked back to the cluster of other Slytherins on the green.  
She was going to have to write Kolya, and ask how one went about conversing with Slytherins without getting one's head bitten off.  
-  
Lyuda was chewing on her old quill, seated comfortably next to the familiar Slytherin girl.  
The dungeons smelled of earthy things, roots, and dust. Lyuda wasn’t sure how the Slytherins managed down here- it must’ve been colder in these chambers than outside.  
Her thoughts of the promised salmon dinner that evening in the great hall, were abruptly cut off by the slamming open of the doors- and the billowing black robes of their potions Professor as he strode purposefully to the front of his classroom.  
Severus Snape was a severe looking person. His attire and schooled expression suggested seriousness and a no-nonsense attitude, tailored robes and a thin frame suggested elegance. His hair was a tad oily though.  
“There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to enjoy the subtle science and exact art that is potion making.” Professor Snape dictated, passing them all over with an Icy glare, “However, for those select few,” Snape shot a look at a pleased looking Draco Malfoy, “who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses, I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death.”  
Lyuda rose her eyebrows. So this professor was definitely not the Kolya kind of Slytherin.  
Snape stopped his pacing at the front of the room, and trained his dark eyes on Harry Potter, who was immersed in scribbling down something in his notes.  
“Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not...pay...attention.” Snape stressed his last words, and poor Harry, ink smudge on his cheeks and all shot up when Hermione gave a nasty looking jab to his ribs.  
“Mr. Potter. Our new...celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”  
Hermione's hand skyrocketed, and Harry gave a shrug.  
“You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?” Lyuda knew this one, Kolya had often asked for her to stock ingredients for his store towards the end of summer. Hermione's hand was waving in the air, desperately.  
“I don't know, Sir.” Came Harry's Reply, less meek and more annoyed.  
“What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?”  
At this point, Lyuda was scowling along with Harry. The lad obviously didn’t know, and according to Harry himself, he had only learned he was a wizard a couple weeks ago.  
“I don't know, Sir. Why don’t you try asking Hermionie?”  
The side of the classroom primarily occupied by Gryffindors erupted in giggles, and Lyuda gulped. Snape was irked, and looking an awful lot like Mama when Lyuda turned the stove too high and burned the eggs.  
“Sit down!” Snape growled at Hermione, who immediately glued herself to her seat.  
Snape proceeded to explain the answers to all his questions and the ingredients uses.  
“Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”  
Lyuda glared at her blank parchment. It glared back. She was tired and hungry and there was lunch after this, and taking English notes was so hard.  
“And a point will be taken from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter.” The remark came from across the room, and Lyuda suppressed a groan.  
It’s not likely that he’ll check the notes, anyways. Lyuda thought, and decided it would be better to have notes she actually understood than to waste time.  
She dipped her quill in ink and began copying down what she remembered, in the practical Cyrillic alphabet.  
Snape swept around the room in his midnight cloak like a prison guard, stopping to lecture girls who decided to buy ink in impractical shades of pink and purple, or berate boys whose handwriting was chicken scratch, their grammar non existent.  
Luckily he didn’t seem to notice her paper. _Ah, the lovely gift of Ushakovo women._ Lyuda picked at the old bandage around her index finger.  
The class progressed steadily, Snape ordering them into pairs. Lyuda got paired with the sea glass- eyed girl next to her.  
They weren’t aloud to talk unless it was about the assignment- (a simple brew to cure boils, Lyuda had seem Kolya do it a few times,) but she learned the the girl was called Daphne anyways, from glancing at her notes, which were done in perfect, loopy navy cursive.  
“You’re not bad at this, for a Gryffindor, but if you crush it up anymore it will be worthless.” Daphne said, weighing the nettles, and glancing at Lyuda’s snake fangs, which the taller girl had just finished crushing to a fine powder.  
“ Ah, thank you?”  
The girl stared at her for a long moment, then gave a sniff, and trained her eyes on the scale like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and Lyuda supposed she must’ve understood Slytherins a bit more than she thought.  
Suddenly, the room was beginning to fill with what looked like orange fog- and for a moment, Lyuda thought that she really must’ve not had enough sleep-  
“ _Neville don’t_ -”  
The sound of furious bubbling and boiling from across the room was soon joined by hissing and a shaking table, and it exploded- Neville Longbottom had exploded Seamus’s cauldron, exploded all over the classroom! ( Rather spectacularly really,) soon the space was covered in splattered bits of potion and everyone was standing on their chairs; the liquid was thick and terra-cotta colored sludge, burning holes in the floor and threatening to singe off their toes. The screaming soon began as students stood on their chairs.  
“Idiot boy!” Snape snarled, clearing away the spilled potion with a wave of his wand, “I suppose you added the quills before taking the cauldron off of the fire?”  
The ‘idiot boy’ in question started to whimper as angry boils burst out all over his face, he was lying on the floor rather pathetically.  
“Take him to the hospital wing!” He barked at Seamus.  
Snape turned sharply to Harry, who was looking at Neville with a grimace.  
“Why didn’t you tell him not to add them? I suppose you thought it would be amusing, eh Potter?”  
That was just unfair. Lyuda knew for a fact that Harry was raised with no knowledge of the wizarding world.  
“He could not have known this would happen, Professor.” Lyuda interjected.  
Snape slowly turned, one knife sharp brow raised at her insolence. His glare should have been more intimidating, but it paled in comparison to her mother’s.  
“ _Name_.” He demanded, seething. She gulped.  
“Lyudmila Ushakovo.”  
“Detention at 7 then, Ushakovo, for speaking out of turn and defending a troublemaker, ” The potions master barely spared her a distasteful glance as he stalked back to the front, “class dismissed.”  
Detention in the first week! Well, uncle would be happy at least. By now she was dying to ask him how to handle these Slytherins. In the first week she had come to the conclusion that they were tricky folk who could go from docile to fearsome dragons ready to burn you to a crisp in a matter of seconds.  



End file.
